


Love Makes a Family

by abchorse



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abchorse/pseuds/abchorse
Summary: Ballie AU. Bea and Allie bond in grief. Our ladies meet in the great big Aussie world outside Wentworth. Angst and Romance guaranteed. And through it all, Love Makes a Family. Explicit rating later, maybe. This is slow burn though, so it will take a long time to get there, IF I decide to go that route at all. Fans of falling in love, stick with me. Fans of smut, find another story. :)





	1. Thanks Red

**Author's Note:**

> I started, and will continue posting this story on FF Net. But I have always enjoyed reading stories on the AO3 site much better. The styling is much nicer, cleaner and easier to read. I've also noticed there seems to be a much larger Wentworth presence on this site, and so I thank AO3 for granting me membership, and I look forward to engaging with the Wentworth fandom. I should have all chapters to date posted in the next day or two. Cheers!

Bea inched her Falcon forward into the parking space and applied the brake. She'd prepared for a longer drive, but had made it to Mulgrave in 25 minutes. That made her, she realized, ridiculously early. Feeling simultaneously anxious and ruminative, her head found the headrest as she turned off the ignition. Her eyes closed involuntarily, as if to will away the pounding in her heart, the throbbing in her temples. She was so tired, a feeling that never left her anymore. Bridget had pronounced her clinically depressed. Well duh. She adored Bridget, but still wanted to slap her silly for overstepping her boundaries and declaring the obvious. And so here she sits, Bridget quite directly to blame, dearly wishing her friend were with her now. If Bea weren't so bloody ornery, Bridget would of course be by her side, saying all the right things, rationalizing, coaxing, holding her hand, massaging her temples, dragging her physically from the car into the building when it was time.

Slamming her palms into the steering wheel hard enough to hurt, Bea shouted "Fuck," and hit the wheel three more times for good measure. She didn't want to be here. Shouldn't be here. No, she should be at home mixing up sesame chicken and chopping veggies for a quick stir fry. A perfected recipe, dead simple now, and Debbie's favorite. Debbie. Her smiling, beautiful daughter; breezing into the kitchen in her school uniform, slinging her pack onto one high stool and hopping up into the other while Bea chopped at the island.

"Hey mum, how was your day? Cut anyone famous today?"

A shared, affectionate smile. Debbie's twinkling hazel eyes on her waiting for a response.

"Nah, just the usual riff raff wanting shave lines and colors. Busy though. We can make the mortgage payment again this month."

A wink at her daughter to share the standing joke. Their house had long ago been paid off. When Bea finally fled from Harry, she and her small daughter had stayed with Bridget for a while, then set up in St. Kilda, a then sketchy suburb where gentrification was in its early stages, but where Bea could afford a small mortgage on a decent two bedroom house. She had quickly carved herself a niche in the Bohemian mecca as an edgy hair dresser, taking on private clients as well as shop work, until squirreling away enough cash to front a down payment on a drab, vacant salon she finally named Red Beauty. Just a few years later, Bea had transformed Red Beauty into one of the trendiest, funkiest salons in St. Kilda and the money flowed. She'd paid off the house and the salon on the same day. And then she had taken her 12 year old daughter to Luna Park to celebrate with rides, and ice cream and as much junk food as they could stuff in.

Looking out the car window, Bea smiled at the memory and finally registered the sign on the building for the first time:

#### 

Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement

Closing her eyes and biting on a finger to squelch the sharp, visceral pain that suddenly seized her, she succumbed to quiet tears.

"Well, here we are love." Having pulled into a parking spot, Liz parked the car and switched off the ignition. Allie hadn't said a word on the drive from Arrowhealth, just stared quietly out the window. Liz was concerned by this point. Allie had been insistent she didn't need a grief group, that she would deal with things in her own way, on her own time. The centre had insisted on group counselling as a condition of release; needing to know that Allie had support on the outside, and valid coping mechanisms to stay off the drugs. Allie was considered a patient with a high probability of relapse despite her near completion of their long term program. And part of that determination was based on her refusal to accept the magnitude of the loss that had put her back on the addiction path in the first place.

"She wasn't my mother, Liz! Those people, in that group you want me to go to, they've lost real family. Husbands, wives, kids maybe, mums and dads. Kaz was my friend. Those people don't need my whiny ass in there talking shit just because I lost my friend. I'll be fine, you just watch me."

So much bravado. Allie was brave, Liz thought. Brave and stupid. Having suffered years of neglect and abuse, and then more years on the street out of her mind on drugs, prostituting herself out to support her addiction, and to occasionally secure some kind of transient shelter, there was no question Allie was a survivor with keen street smarts. It was Kaz Proctor that got her cleaned up. Strung out and battered by a violent 'John', Allie had somehow made her way to the Manly Centre for Women where Kaz had first tended to her, and then basically adopted her. She had taken Allie Novak home with her, nursed her through days of severe drug withdrawal, indoctrinated her in the belief systems of her pet project, The Red Right Hand, and then gave her work at the Shelter to keep her busy. Allie continued to live with Kaz. For three years. Three years of activist work and no drugs. Three years of stability and friendship. Liz believed in the concept that love makes a family. And Liz firmly believed that Allie had lost her family with Kaz's death. What she couldn't understand is Allie's need to downplay that very special relationship.

"You ready love?" Liz reached across and touched Allie's arm gently, hoping for a response. Allie just continued with her staring through the window. Liz followed Allie's sight path and watched with her as a woman got out of her car and slammed the door rather violently. After a frenetic 380 degree turn, the woman then began to kick at her front tire, repeatedly, until she was spent and leaning into the car with her arms on the hood, head bowed, wild red curls covering her face. After a moment, the woman straightened herself, pulled the wild red hair back from her face, took a deep breath, and began a purposeful march toward the Centre's entrance. The hair, the jacket, the jeans and boots; the woman looked badass, and Allie was clearly mesmerized. Liz smiled inwardly; the reasons for Allie's silence had obviously shifted gears and her eyes stayed on the woman until she disappeared into the building. At which point Allie turned to Liz and flashed her infectious, 1000 megawatt smile.

"Shall we get on with it then?" She asked, bright blue eyes full of life suddenly.

_Thanks Red _, Liz thought to herself. With great relief, she followed Allie's lead and got out of the car, still chuckling to herself. For the most part, Allie Novak was a bright light, a sparkling presence, an intelligent and surprisingly complex young woman, but one thing she was not, was 'subtle'. No, Allie had clearly set herself a new mission. And grief counseling would simply be a means to an end.__


	2. Follow She Must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's introduce a few more characters and some Ballie eye contact, shall we? Thanks to all of you reading this story both here, and on FF Net. I really appreciate the support.

"Alright then, let's move on from check in shall we? We do have a few new members tonight, and I'd like to ask if perhaps one of you might want to introduce yourself, and begin sharing with the group a little? It's not mandatory here, not by any means, we share when we feel ready to, but if you'd like to get started, we like to make sure new members have the opportunity to speak first."

Bea's eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened. She had remained largely tuned out to this point, having cocooned herself tightly in her head to fight off the rising panic in her body. The desire to bolt was overwhelming. She looked over to the grief counsellor and shook her head vehemently, 'no'. The counsellor, whose kind face and soft spoken voice didn't quite fit with her rather severe hair bun, silently acknowledged Bea's reluctance with a quick reassuring smile and a mouthed "ok".

Relieved, Bea sat back and quickly scanned the room for others facing the same demons as herself. She couldn't really get a read on this mostly somber group, but it certainly didn't escape her attention that a young blonde woman was watching her from across the room. Bea feared it was her abject terror at even being in the room that had attracted attention, but then the woman smiled at her. Warmly. Bea caught the woman's eyes, and saw nothing but softness and sympathy. It caught her off guard and made her feel shy. She looked down unable to stand the woman's intense scrutiny any longer. She was nervous. For a lot of reasons. But the attention from the attractive young woman across the room was now one of them.

"Uh, yeah, I'd like to share. Me and my friend Maxie here, we got stuff to share."

Bea's head shot up again to locate the rough sounding voice. It belonged to a rather large woman with long dark hair in desperate need of some style. But it's not what caught Bea most. No, it was her unflinching sincerity, and her bouncing, almost childlike demeanor. They were so touching, infectious even. She smiled a little, despite herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught those of the woman who had been staring at her smile a little too. She seemed affected by the same observations, reacting in the same way. Feeling just a little stronger, Bea let her eyes lock on the blonde's until they found each other and acknowledged the shared smile, as if communicating without speech. She held the gaze as long as she could before looking into her lap again. She would never admit it in court, but she was still smiling a little. Something about the woman unnerved her. She didn't want the attention at all, but she was surprised to notice the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Yes, Sue. Please continue," the counsellor urged.

"Yeah, so when we went around and said our names, I said Sue Jenkins. And it is. My name. I mean. But everyone just calls me Boomer, or Booms, on accounta I'm loud, and I can be a right bitch and kick some arse when I need to, or when someone hurts the people I care about. So yeah, just so y'all are clear on that.

This here is Maxine. I mean Maxie. We been friends for like ever, and I love her, ya know? And we kinda have this unusual situation. We're not really a couple, like, but we get on real good, and Maxie here would make a real good parent. I would too. We both would I mean. So, we tried. Maxi had some sperm saved up from before her change, and we used it to get me pregnant.

"We were so happy," Maxine interjected, linking her arm through Boomer's. "It was all so perfect. We were going to raise the child together. It would have been a love child, for sure, even if the circumstances were a little unconventional." Maxine touched her scarf enshrouded head to Boomer's shoulder, urging her to continue.

Boomer looked a little unsure, but Maxine smiled and nodded gently and she continued.

"So it worked, ya know? Well at first it did. And we celebrated and all. But then 3 months later, I started bleedin' again. And it hit us both real hard. Maxi don't got no more sperm left, so we can't try again. So that's it. We lost our baby. But then we found out Maxi's got cancer. And well, I just love her so much, and it's real hard. So I'm sad about the baby, and I'm sad about Maxi, and it was her idea to come to this grief group, to talk about losing the baby, and about us losing each other. Ya know, like before it happens." By this point, Boomer was crying, full on ugly crying, and Maxine had one arm wrapped around the big woman, while she patted Boomer's leg with her other hand.

Bea had been holding her eyes squeezed shut, channeling the big woman's pain. It was palpable. The woman wore her heart on her sleeve, and her friend was just so lovely. So present, and so supportive. She unclenched her eyes when Boomer stopped talking and chanced a look at the grieving couple. They were so strikingly opposite, but so beautiful all the same. She felt dangerously close to crying herself.

Unthinkingly, Bea sought out the blonde and caught the same look of sadness in her eyes. This time, she waited for the other woman's eyes to catch hers. When she did, her gaze was unflinching and held all the warmth and comfort she could could project with just a look. The raw emotion held in that gaze pierced Bea, and instead of grounding her, the woman's power to connect with just her eyes unraveled her completely. She bit her lip and clenched her fists, willing herself to stay put.

"Losing a child is hard," she heard the counsellor utter finally into the silence, "and we have a few people in this room who are grappling with that same loss. Perhaps over time, they will be able to share their experiences and their coping strategies with you." Bea clenched herself tighter. "And you're decision to deal with your grief at losing your friendship in the present rather than posthumously is so very, very brave. I'm sure I speak for everyone in this room Sue…er, Boomer and Maxine, in wishing you a very warm welcome to the group. Here, we strive to try and make sense of our losses, to at least come to terms with them, and in doing so, to carry on with our lives one day at a time feeling confident that our loved ones are preciously preserved in our hearts, and stored clearly in our memories."

With that, Bea lost her battle with panic and overwhelming turmoil. Tearing from her seat, she muttered "sorry" and walked, then ran unceremoniously to the door, flinging it open, and running through it without looking back.

As the group processed Bea's exit, Allie rose from her seat and headed for the exit after the woman. Her flight was not as frantic as Bea's, but unlike Bea, she didn't apologize. She would be back. With the redhead, or without her. But she felt like she damn well needed to at least try and reach the woman. Liz looked on in surprise and something like horror. But follow she must. Not knowing Allie's intentions, she had to at least follow the woman and ensure she didn't leave the premises. Allie wasn't a prisoner, but she had come too damned far now to throw progress out the window for a woman she didn't even know. No longer shocked as she got up to follow the fleeing pair, Liz realized she was actually pissed. Really, fucking pissed. "Goddammit, Allie!" she declared aloud, and then looked back at the group apologetically as she left, and just shrugged.


	3. I Thought I Saw Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheeky Allie and flustered Bea make a first appearance.

It didn't take long for Allie to spot Bea in the parking lot. The sun had begun to set, the wind had picked up a little, and the red head was pacing furiously back and forth alongside her car, phone in hand, hair whirling around her, clearly angry. Whether at herself, or something else, Allie had no way of knowing. But the woman carried herself proudly, so Allie guessed, as she continued to advance, that she was feeling humiliated, and was probably more pissed at herself. She looked a bit dervish-like, reminding Allie of Kaz a little, but Kaz was usually mad at someone or something else, and not usually herself. Allie chuckled internally at the reactionary comparisons, but reminded herself that she had never once found 'Kaz-the-fury' sexy, and this woman was definitely having the opposite effect.

Burrowing her hands deeper into the pockets of her hoodie, Allie continued toward Bea, unnoticed so far, but quickly closing in on the eye of the storm. She didn't have a plan. Allie mostly acted on impulse, relying heavily on honesty, quick wit, cheeky charm, and whip sharp people skills to get her through most interactions. She figured she would need the full arsenal to face the raging red head, but she summoned up her courage, screwed on her "game face," crossed her arms, and slowed up. The woman couldn't not notice her much longer.

And there it was. The abrupt about-face. Raging brown eyes met Allie's, flashing in recognition, softening briefly, firing up again, and finally settling on steely defiance.

"What are you doing here!?" Bea snapped.

"Needed some air," Allie gave back, no visible fear, or apology for being there. "You?"

Bea tilted her head, really looking at Allie now, apparently thrown a little by the lack of reaction. Her eyes hinted briefly at confusion, then retreated back into resolute indifference. But it was just enough. Allie had seen the opening, no matter how lightning quick it vanished. The woman was not an easy read, but Allie was very good at picking up on cues other people miss.

"So first ya stare at me, now you're stalking me are ya?" Bea tossed her head back, a show of righteous indignation.

"You stared back," Allie countered defiantly.

"You're delusional," Bea spat out.

"Nah. I know when someone's looking. And you were definitely looking. So, you must have seen something, yea?" Still no panic, no deference, no backing down. Bea's resolve was waning; Allie could feel she was wearing her down. Time to play. "What was it, huh?"

Bea softened, ever so slightly. "I thought I saw kindness," she admitted finally, arms still crossed but relaxing her posture a little.

"I am kind," Allie smiled, stepping forward and leaning in a little, "for a stalker." The last part is whispered and accompanied by a full on cheeky grin; she was more than ready to wait the other woman out. Bea holds firm, but Allie catches it again, a subtle softening in the steely eyes, and yeah, maybe just the slightest hint of a smile forming.

After some visible inner struggling, Bea finally asks "and you? What do you think you saw?"

"Oh, I know what I saw," Allie answers quickly, still smiling but dropping the cockiness a few notches.

"Yea?" Bea challenges.

"Well BEA," Allie enunciates clearly to let the woman know she had paid attention when they circled the room during check-in to state their names. "It's like this. I've been cooped up for a while now, and well, let's just say," she drew out her pronouncement, giving Bea the once over, "that I haven't seen a…leather jacket…quite so fine in some time." Allie catches Bea's widening eyes, and slips back into a full sassy grin to ensure her point is very clear.

"Wait," Bea reacts, "so you were checking me out?!" Her reaction emphasizing her disbelief. "And now you're flirting with me in the middle of a Grief Centre parking lot?!" She looked incredulous.

"When else am I gonna do it?" Allie doesn't ease up her level of playfulness. Instead she crosses her arms, copying Bea's stance, and just waits for whatever comes next. Bea breaks out into a sharp, sarcastic laugh, shaking her head, but looking far less rigid than she has so far during their interaction.

"You're insane!" she shoots at Allie, "Bloody hell! Wait till Bridget hears I met a fucking nut job my first time out," she mutters more to herself, still shaking her head. "I'm not gay," Bea finally announces, staring Allie down to make sure the woman gets the message.

"I don't care what you are." Allie replies sincerely, meeting Bea's stare head on, all playfulness gone, just stark frankness in its place. Bea has no rebuttal for this, none. She continues to stand in place, not leaving, but not speaking either. Finally uncrossing her arms, she shoves her hands in her back pockets and looks down, scuffing one boot against the pavement as if trying to decide what to do next. Allie can't read her reactions this time, and begins to panic at the thought of the woman's pending exit speech. It was now or never.

"Who'd you lose, Bea?" Allie asks gently.

Still studying her boot, Bea tenses a little at the question, but says nothing. Allie doesn't push. Bea would tell her, or she wouldn't. And that decision would determine the course of any future friendship between them. Allie breathed in deeply and waited. The silence seemed interminable. But alas, Bea looks up, not at Allie, but away from her, fixed on some far off point in the dusky sky.

"My daughter," she spoke at last.

"I'm so sorry, Bea." Allie wished she could just reach out and hug the woman, but she knew instinctively that nothing would make her run faster.

"Yea." It was all Bea said, but she didn't make a move to leave.

Allie sensed that was as much sharing as Bea was going to allow for now.

"Hey Bea," Allie said, wanting to grab the woman's attention back, and break the painful silence. Bea turned her face to meet Allie's, her eyes asking "what?"

"I'd love to do this all proper like," Allie smiles, once again injecting mirth into her delivery. "You know, I'd say 'hey Bea, how about you and me skip out on this meeting because it's really bloody depressing, and we'd go get some coffee; you'd tell me a little more about your daughter; I'd maybe tell you a few things about me, and we'd just hang out and chill, woman to woman, friend to friend…"

"…we're not friends," Bea interrupted.

"Right, but here's the thing. See that woman standing sentry outside the door back there?" Allie tips her head back towards the Centre, and Bea does look. "That's Liz. And Liz is like the nicest woman ever, but she's basically here to make sure that I don't escape and run off with strangers. And at the end of the night, she's gonna make sure that I get back safely by curfew, and that I'm all tucked in and sleepy by lights out. So, I can't ask you to run away with me for coffee. Instead, I'm going to ask you if you'll come back to the meeting with me. And maybe we can struggle through this whole first meeting thing together." There. Allie had gotten it all out. And her smile grew in proportion with her satisfaction with that fact.

"You're a prisoner?!" Bea asks, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yeah, life sentence for stalking." Allie counters without skipping a beat, humour and mischief gleaming in her eyes and smile. She can't be entirely sure, but she really believes Bea almost allowed herself to chuckle for a second. And even if it was quick enough to miss, Allie felt victorious. "So that's what you took from that, huh?" She asks lightheartedly.

"Sorry," Bea looks at Allie, and she means it.

"Na, it's ok," Allie smiles, a little shyly herself this time. "And no, I'm not a prisoner. Rehab. I chose it, so the lack of freedom is not something I can really complain about much. I'm done in a few weeks though, so I can deal." It's the most she's shared of herself so far, and she looks for Bea's reaction.

For her part, Bea looks poised to ask more questions, but instead shakes her head a little and promptly shuts down.

"Allie, I appreciate you coming to check on me, I do. Thanks for that. My friend thought I was ready for this, but I'm not. I can't do it. Not tonight. I'm a mess."

_A hot mess_ , Allie thinks, but keeps that one to herself. "So, next week then?" she asks instead.

This time, Bea does smile. "Yea, maybe."

Allie's face lights up with hope. "You're so gonna be here," she sasses back good naturedly, and watches as Bea turns toward her car.

"Hey Bea!" Allie calls out, chancing the other woman's irritation one more time. Bea glances back, neither irritated nor particularly friendly. "You said my name. Guess you were paying attention too, huh?" Allie winks. Bea just turns around again, shakes her head in that now familiar way, and opens her car door. Allie watches for a bit until Bea has driven away, and then heads back toward the centre and Liz, fully prepared for the lecture in wait, but feeling like she had just won the _**International Champions Cup _ **.**_**_


	4. Magnet for Whack Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that same night...

Pulling up behind Bridget's car, Bea noticed Franky's bright red Lancer a little further up the street. For a few moments she sat idling, trying to decide whether she was up to dealing with Franky tonight. Mostly she adored the woman with her infectious charm and her knack for well-timed, one-off zingers that would shame the Pope and get her arrested in a long list of less progressive countries. But keeping up with Franky required energy she just wasn't feeling tonight. She really wanted to see Bridget, but more and more, that meant seeing Franky too; Bea felt herself waxing nostalgic for the days before Bridget had completely lost her mind and fallen arse over elbow for one of Melbourne's most notorious, lesbian bad girls.

_Nah, can't do it. Not tonight_. Sighing, Bea shifted her clutch into reverse when Murphy's Law promptly intervened and Bridget's porch light switched on. _Fuck me. Can't catch a godamned break_. Resigned, she shifted the car into park as her best friend waved to her from the porch. Bridget's warm, sincere smile and expressive eyes had always touched Bea and made her feel cared for, and despite her reticence, tonight was no different. Swinging the car door shut behind her, Bea climbed the porch stairs and headed straight into the waiting arms of her smiling friend. Bea relished the hug, and relaxed into Bridget's embrace.

"How'd it go, kiddo?" Bridget finally asked, without letting go.

"Fucking disaster," Bea mumbled. Bridget stepped back, hands still on Bea's shoulders, and took a good look.

"That bad?" She asked. Bea looked quickly away, then back at Bridget, and shyly muttered "yeah. That bad."

"Come on," Bridget grabbed Bea's hand and led her into the house. "Franky," she shouted from the entrance, "Bea's here! Pour her a nice, big glass of red would ya, babe?"

"Sure Gidge! Anything for my favourite hairdresser…where is she?" Still holding onto Bea's hand, Bridget led her into the kitchen where Franky was busy pouring wine. "Here she is," Bridget announced, when Franky turned to Bea, large glass of Shiraz in hand, and a full on dazzling smile aimed straight at her guest.

"Hey Red, looking good!" Franky appraised, handing her the wine, and offering a warm, one armed, hug. Bea couldn't help chuckling a little. "What is it with you women?" She muttered; "I'm a bloody mess, and this is when the ladies think it's a good time to pour on the charm!?" Bea philosophically floated the question, to no one in particular.

"Chicks hitting on ya again at the shop, yeah?" Franky wiggled her eyebrows, hands on hips, still smiling her full on Franky-smile.

"Nah," Bea smiled, embarrassed. "The Grief Centre, of all bloody places."

"Shit Red, that takes some balls! Looked just like me, did she? Totes irresistible?" Franky batted her eyelashes, Bridget rolled her eyes, and Bea let out a small laugh.

"No. Sorry Franky, nothing like you. First of all, she's blonde." Bea shook her head, what the fuck was she talking about this for?

"Well, damn Red, I'd like to tell ya Blondes are boring, but ya know I can't do that with Gidge standing right here." Franky winked at her girlfriend. "Cute, was she?"

"Shit Franky, I don't know. Yeah, I guess. But that's not the point. I mean, who does that? Hit on someone at a grief group?"

"Someone with some real big cajones, Red, that's for sure. Or one of those weirdo, psycho stalker type chicks?"

Bea did laugh at this. "That's what she said. Stalker. I'm a magnet for the whack jobs. Nutters know no gender."

Franky just looked at her for a few seconds, then raised her eyebrows – "shit Red, you like her don't ya?! You do, I can see it in your eyes. They're smiling! Look Gidge! Red's got smiling eyes! Damn! I knew you had it in ya!"

"Stop Franky," Bea squirmed. "She was nice, sweet really. Kind of funny even. But she's a stalker, and I'm not gay. So," Bea pleaded, "can we please just let's just forget about it?"

Franky considered her options for a second. "Ok, listen up Bea, I'm gonna cut you some slack here before Gidge cuffs me one. But this isn't over yet." She wagged her finger at Bea, and then turned back toward her stool at the Island and sat back down with her glass of wine, solemnly, the absolute portrait of piety.

Bea breathed a sigh of relief and looked to Bridget to lead the conversation in a more constructive direction, which she did, patting an empty stool, encouraging Bea to have a seat. As she settled on the stool, she felt Bridget's hand cover hers; taking a small sip of wine, she finally looked up to meet the caring eyes of her friend, and a surprisingly compassionate Franky.

"I bailed, Bridge." She breathed deeply and continued. "I tried to keep my head in the game like you said, ground myself, listen and engage; but the whole time I was on the verge of bolting, and it took so much thinking and so much strength to stay as long as I did. There was this couple; they were so lovely and so sad, and then for some reason the counsellor said 'daughter'...I can't even remember why...but that was it for me. Had a full blown panic attack I did, felt like screaming, and then I just ran...I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, just had to get out."

Bea wasn't crying, but she was definitely tearing up. Franky handed her a Kleenex box and Bridget squeezed her hand. "I can't do this Bridge'" Bea quietly admitted. "I don't even fully understand how I feel yet, let alone share it all with strangers." She looked at Bridget with pleading eyes, and saw her friend's love, empathy and struggle not to say the first comforting thing that came to mind.

Bea then took a long, slow swallow of wine, and the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Bea closed her eyes. Franky hated silence, that much she knew. She also knew her best friend was weighing different approaches and next steps in her head, carefully predicting Bea's response to each one. And so, Bea started a silent countdown in her head...8, 9, 10...and there it was! Franky...

Leaning back in her chair, Franky shot a side look at Bridget, still deep in thought. Turning her wineglass in circles by the stem, she went for it, eyes blazing with mirth, despite her promise, and Bea knew something wholly inappropriate was coming...

"So Red," Franky glanced sideways at her girlfriend again, quickly, to make sure she was still deep in thought, and then pounced - "trying to get this straight, no pun intended...ok, if I'm hearing you right, you were a quick in and out, and you self admittedly bailed; which leads me to ask Bea, how exactly did Blondie make her move on ya?" Exasperated, Bea rolled her eyes, Bridget shot Franky a dagger-death glare, and Franky reddened, but shot a wide eyed, fake innocent look back; then leaned forward rather than backing down. Franky didn't do the "backing down" thing..."yeah Red...?"

"When I bolted, she came after me. Ya know, to check on me. She asked me to come back in to the meeting. It was her first time too." Bea stopped there, and had no intentions of continuing. Bridget was still glaring at Franky, but the brunette looked satisfied. Taking another slug of wine, Franky delivered her final thought on the situation with a trademark smile.

"Damn Red! I need to meet this woman; brush up on my moves!" Franky declared heartily. With that, she tipped her head back and blatantly cackled. Bridget looked at Bea wearily, smiling but apologetic for her girlfriend's relentless teasing. Bea lowered her eyes to the table. God, she wished she could just crawl away and die.

"Bea," Bridget started tentatively, holding the atmosphere close to discourage Franky from talking, " I would imagine," she continued, "that tonight was very uncomfortable. And I'm sorry it didn't work out for you." She met Bea's eyes, downed a healthy swallow of wine, then declared, "I really think you need to try again." Bea looked at her friend with wide eyed shock and fear. Are you serious? A look that was well transmitted. The two had a long history. Reading between the lines is what they did best.

"Sweetie," Bridget continued, "you really need to let me go with you next time." She grabbed Bea's hand again, and tightened her grip. "I can help you manage the panic, try to help you stay grounded, keep you in your seat until people have spoken and the meeting is over. Do you trust me?" Bridget's perceptive, beautiful eyes bored straight through Bea's bravado and fear, and touched Bea as only Bridget could...straight to the heart. Grateful and a little choked, Bea just nodded.

"Well ok then, kiddo. We're going back next week. I'll be with you every step of the way. And whether you say anything or not, we're going to come back here and toast to bravery. First steps, yeah?" Bridget held her glass up to Bea while Franky observed the two friends.

Right now, Franky realized, was most definitely the time to shut up. Her Bridget had thoughtfully and sensitively reeled in her best friend, and Franky was feeling so much pride in both of them. Closing her eyes and tipping back the last remnants from her near empty glass, Franky smiled to herself; silently she held up the long stemmed goblet in cheers to them both.

With that, she got up and started cleaning away glasses and dishes from dinner. Bridget threw her an air-kiss. She would let the two friends be, and go to bed. "Yeah," she thought. "Sleep!" She felt excitement at the prospect, but refused to let the "getting old" whisper make it past her front temporal lobe. Franky didn't do getting older any better than she did backing down.

"Night Bea," she muttered, kissing the top of the woman's red head. "Love ya." Franky meant it, but knew Bea wouldn't respond in kind. "Night Franky," Bea countered with a weary smile. "Thanks for the wine."

"Anytime Red, you know it, yeah?" Bea just nodded as Franky winked and then headed upstairs to wait for Bridget.

*****

It was shortly after 10 pm when Liz pulled up to the main door of Arrow Health to let Allie off.

"Thanks for not tearing me a new one, Liz" Allie smiled, and leaned into hug the woman. "I don't know what came over me back there."

"I'm not buying that for a minute love," Liz chuckled, even though Allie's blue eyes were alight with the knowledge of her own mischief. She hugged the blonde tightly and kissed her cheek before pulling away. "You take care, Allie Novak. You're young and you're smart. I'm off on holidays after tomorrow and I won't be with you next week, so behave yourself! You just get yourself out of here in two weeks like you're supposed to, and stay out! I'll miss you Allie, but I don't want to ever see you back here, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Liz, loud and clear," she squeezed Liz's hand. "I'll miss you too. And thank you, for everything. I couldn't have done this without you, and ya never know, maybe I'll come back for a visit, yeah?"

Liz laughed wistfully at Allie's enthusiasm. "Allie, when you get out of here love, you just keep on going and never look back! You'll have better things to do than to come back here visiting. We'll keep in touch, I'll want to know how you're doing. But no visiting here! We can meet for coffee sometime. I'd like that."

"That sounds good, Liz Birdsworth! And I am so going to hold ya to it!" Allie finally broke eye contact with Liz. Eyes moist, but still smiling she finally made to open the door. She didn't look back, and Liz was grateful for that. It was always hard to watch them go; you couldn't help but get attached. But Allie? Allie was special. She had wormed her way into all of their hearts, and was poised to leave soon with her own personal Arrow Health cheering section. "God bless you love, stay strong and go make a life of it," Liz whispered as she drove away.

*****

Linda Miles was on the security desk when Allie entered the building.

"Good evening, Ms. Novak" Miles deadpanned, like a right and proper security jockey on the night shift at a rehab institute in the middle of bloody nowhere after lock down.

"Ms. Novak?" Allie feigned indignation. "Are you shittin' me, Smiles? That's Allie to you! Thought we got past all that formal BS?! You know, DJ Alliecat, wiggity wack…" Allie waggled her eyebrows and mimed a few rap moves.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Novak," Miles snickered. "Just sign in, will ya?"

"Well you're all kicks and giggles tonight, aren't you Smiles?" Allie grabbed the pen off the desk and took the sign-in chart from Miles; scribbling her name quickly, she handed it back. "Next week, I think you should sub for me at grief group, you've got the right personality for it."

Miles rolled her eyes. "Well, we can't all be as funny as you Novak," she quipped, putting the chart away in a desk drawer. "You're the last one in tonight. And now it's downtime for me."

"So what?" Allie asked, "nap first, then binge on the soaps? Nah, it's soaps first right? You can't wait, I can see it in your eyes!"

"Bedtime Novak," Miles announced with an amused smile, "and before you go, one of your friends dropped by earlier with some mail." Miles reached for the banded package, then handed it to Allie.

"Shit," Allie wisecracked, "more fan mail! If only I had time to answer it all!"

"Lucky you Novak, not many of us are so lucky to have the Electric Company as our number one fan." Miles did smile this time. "Right on top here, see? Want me to answer it for you?"

"Nah, I got this one Smiles," Allie waved her mail pile as she walked away. "Enjoy your soaps!"

Miles just snorted, and went back to her computer. Solitaire, Allie thought. Or Candy Crush. Yeah, Linda Miles whacking jellies. The image fit and Allie chuckled to herself.

Unbanding the smile pile of mail, Allie flipped through the envelopes on the way to her room. Electric, water, property taxes, a few addressed to the Red Right Hand, and one for Ms. Allie Novak from a Francesca Doyle with Melbourne Legal Relief. Allie mined her memory for a few seconds before deciding she didn't know a Francesca Doyle, and determined the letter could wait. So could the bills for that matter.

She dropped the mail on her desk, and grabbed her iPod and headphones. Flopping onto her bed, she hit her "9 lives" playlist and closed her eyes. She was going to allow herself a few minutes to unwind and ruminate before prepping for bed. Finally alone, she wanted to revisit her brief encounter with a certain redhead that night; maybe rewind it a few times and try to catch any details she might have missed in the moment.


	5. Hydrochlorofluorocarbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following week...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as far as I have posted on FF net, so the story is up to date now on AO3. Thanks again for reading, and for your support.

The closer it got to 7 pm, Allie kept one ear on her conversation with Maxine and Boomer, and one eye on the door looking for Bea. She had prayed all week the woman would come back to group this week, and the anticipation had somehow fueled her with enough nervous energy and excitement to fly through her daily rehab machinations with impressive vigor and not a single complaint. Arrow Health's breakfast staff were probably the most relieved by this; Allie had a thing about eggs. They had to be poached to perfection. Too runny, too hard or too dry, and she would send them back to the kitchen every time, offering to cook them herself. This week, she is certain that on Wednesday at least, her eggs were overdone by a minute, maybe more, but she ate them anyway. She was pretty sure the entire kitchen staff had watched the CCTV footage afterwards with astonishment and no small amount of discussion after the nearly 11 weeks of hell she had put them through.

Allie smiled vaguely at something Boomer said, not really knowing if she'd heard the woman correctly, but she was definitely having difficulty focusing. Her knee was jumpy tonight, and she was having just as much trouble corralling her nerves physically as she was mentally. And then she saw Bea, in the doorway, an attractive blonde behind her, propelling her into the room with a hand at the small of her back. The redhead stopped to look back at her companion briefly, but the woman just smiled at her reassuringly and steered her toward the refreshment table.

"Excuse me," Allie said, patting Boomer's leg, and bounding to her feet. "I'll be back in just a sec ok?"

"Yeah," Boomer replied, "take your time."

"Nice chatting with you, Allie." Maxine smiled, and then Allie was off.

"Bea?" Allie shouted, then winced at how over eager she sounded, even to herself.

Hearing her name, Bea looked around until she spotted Allie moving towards them. She smiled in spite of herself. Yeah, the woman was every bit as adorable as she remembered.

"You came back!" Allie grinned upon reaching the two women.

"No choice really," Bea tilted her head back toward Bridget, clearly indicting the woman as her captor. "I tried faking a last minute fashion crisis, but the woman just threw me her girlfriend's shoes and jacket, and here we are."

Allie laughed. "Well, I do miss the leather jacket and boots, but no worries, you really rock the blazer and chucks look too." Allie winked, and though Bea looked down shyly, she was smiling, a little at least.

"Hi, I'm Bridget." An arm slithered past Bea's waist, hand extended. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too Bridget, I'm Allie. Bea and I met last week."

"Funny, she didn't mention it." Bridget smiled slyly as Bea subtly elbowed her friend in the stomach.

"What do you say I get you ladies both a cup of the most vile coffee you've ever tasted before the meeting starts?" Allie had her bearings back. Seeing Bea turn just a little bit flustered at her compliment gave her more confidence than she had been feeling up to now; well that, and knowing that Bridget had a girlfriend and was just Bea's friend. Because damn, she couldn't compete with that!

"Nah," Bea smiled, I'll just grab some water. "Bridge?"

"Water is good with me too, Bea." Bridget moved toward the table to open up some space between herself and Bea. "Allie?" Bridget asked as she began pouring water for herself and Bea.

"Sure, yeah, thanks." Allie responded, looking away from Bea and toward her friend. "Would you look at all that Styrofoam?" She gasped. Both Bridget and Bea raised their eyebrows, waiting for words of wisdom re said Styrofoam. "HCFC's," Allie explained, "hydrochlorofluorocarbons. You know, holes in the ozone layer and all that. I guess they figure the bereaved are too distracted to care about the environment..." Allie felt thrown off again; had she literally just made a fool of herself? The two women just smiled at her, Bridget handing out water poured into Styrofoam cups. Allie took hers quietly; she was done with environmental chatter for the night.

"So Bridget," she segued, "how exactly _did_ you get Bea back here? Favours or blackmail?" Allie flashed a bold, cheeky-forget-everything-I-just-spouted-a-moment-ago-and-let's-just-go-with-this-shall-we grin.

"Oh, definitely blackmail." Bridget winked with a sly smile. Bea shot her an eyes-wide look of disbelief, but Bridget seemed more than happy to play. "I keep a dossier," she deadpanned, sipping from her styrofoam cup. I've known Bea here more than 30 years, so it's quite thick by now."

"Yeah?" Allie bluffed. "Chronological or thematic?" She asked, keeping her ball in the air.

"Oh definitely thematic," Bridget didn't miss a beat. "It's truly hard to compare one's high school hijinks to the types of judgment errors and/or simple, straightforward blunders we make as supposedly rational beings in a complex adult world. Wouldn't you agree, Allie?" She was quite blatantly amused by Allie, and they shared a conspiratorial grin.

"Oh yeah, for sure." Allie colluded. "In fact, I wouldn't mind a peek at that dossier of yours sometime. I think I'd like to compare the impact of a thematic collection vs. the standard chronological, which is how I have been compiling all of my dossiers for future blackmail purposes."

"Bloody Christ you two," Bea finally huffed, "I am literally standing right here!"

"Well Allie," play your cards right, and maybe Bea here will fill you in herself sometime."

With that bombshell dropped, Bridget walked briskly away to find a seat for herself and Bea, and left the two to share a few words before the group started. Still shaking her head, she chuckled. No wonder the young woman had made an impression on Bea the week before. She was quite literally shameless, but in a warm and non-threatening way. Yes, she certainly had appeal, and was also quite attractive Bridget noted. But, as Bea had pointed out on more than one occasion, she wasn't gay.

But nor was she categorically heterosexual, Bridget thought. Bea just wasn't a very sexual being period; something Bridget had witnessed about her friend through decades of friendship. Bea loved sparingly, with all her heart, and kept her body closed off. Bridget blamed Harry for much of that, but she also knew with all of her combined knowledge as a dear friend and trained psychologist that it would take the blunt force trauma of an Australian summer wind storm coupled with laser precision impact to even bounce off her friend's well thickened armor.

Allie was certainly a gale force burst, but whether she could navigate all of Bea's scars and still deal with her own was a question for another day. Today they were here for Debbie, a still raw wound for Bea that needed salve and healing. And while Bridget quite enjoyed Allie's quick wit and unbridled attraction to her best friend, she needed to keep Bea focused on the goal of grief support, and for tonight that meant keeping Allie at bay as much as possible. Allowing herself one last giggle, Bridget realized she couldn't wait to get home and share all of this with Franky.


End file.
